


rise over run

by gdgdbaby



Category: Luther (TV)
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nights out on the town with Ruth always end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rise over run

**Author's Note:**

> character bleed's good for some things. set in late 2010, when they were filming series 2 of luther. originally posted at [livejournal](http://gdgdbaby.livejournal.com/119352.html).

Nights out on the town with Ruth always end like this: the two of them pressed against each other on the dance floor, the sympathetic ache of whisky still pulsing in his throat, her hair so bright he has to squint, line of vision filling with red as he bends to press his nose into her curls. Even now, after fifteen-hour filming days, Ruth grins that sharp grin of hers and beckons with a crook of her finger, and Idris thinks he'd follow her anywhere.

They're in West End tonight, a club of Ruth's choosing that's falling off the curb and onto the street, as grungy inside as it is out. Warren's there too, slouching on the other side of the booth, nursing a shitty beer and a forlorn expression—girlfriend troubles, if the grapevine's to be trusted—and Nikki and Paul, who're laughing at Idris's latest cocktail. Some bright pink monstrosity that actually doesn't taste half bad. Idris sticks the cocktail umbrella behind his ear and attempts a coquettish expression. Nikki snorts into Ruth's shoulder as she persuades Idris to throw up a peace sign and snaps a picture for posterity.

It doesn't take them long at all to migrate to the edge of the gyrating crowd. The DJ's playing something loud and synthetic. "I could show him a thing or two on the turntables," Idris says, arms crossed, and Ruth rolls her eyes. He lets her and Erin pull him into the mob after them.

Someone spills a fifth of whisky on him trying to get past Warren's wild flailing. Idris feels charitable enough to replace the drink and buy one of his own. Ruth watches his Adam's apple bob as he tosses it back, the alcohol heavy and burning on his tongue. They lose half their party in the ocean of people a minute later, and at the end of the third song Ruth leans in, eyes sparkling, and braces her wrists on his shoulders. She smells like liquor and jasmine shampoo and clean sweat, beads of it gathering at her hairline.

Idris holds his breath and waits. Basement Jaxx fades in over the speakers, percussion throbbing in the air between them. Ruth's upper lip curls as she closes the distance, her knees knocking against his shins, body molding to fit against him. Touches his neck, his jaw, the soft skin behind his ear. Kisses the corner of his mouth like she had on camera not three hours ago, his stubble scraping her cheek now like it had then, her hands sliding down to twist at the hem of his shirt. His stomach clenches the same way—but they aren't on camera anymore. This time, he can actually do something about the expression on Ruth's face and the roiling in his gut.

He dips his head and she rises up on her toes to meet him, her startling mouth cleaving open beneath his, arched eyebrows arching higher as his tongue slides along the seam of her lips and skates up to stroke the roof, just behind her teeth. One of his arms is long enough to span the width of her waist. He hooks one around and grabs her gently, fingers closing on her side like a vise. Her feet lift off the ground. She feels lighter than air.

As they wade through, the crowd helpfully shunts them toward the back, deposits them neatly in a quiet alcove just beyond the washrooms. "Convenient," Ruth remarks, glancing at the swinging _MEN'S_ sign above their heads.

Idris hums in agreement and reoccupies her mouth. Ruth raises her legs a little higher and they slot in, occupy the space around his hips, ankles locking over the small of his back. He can already feel her hot and damp through the thin layer of her trousers. His own cock twitches helplessly in response. Idris exhales slowly and boxes her into the corner, his mouth twitching as she lets out a high Disney villainess laugh that carries over the pounding bass. He dwarves her so much that people walking out and casually glancing by wouldn't even realize there was someone else between him and the wall. Idris could probably break her in half and she still wants, and wants, and wants.

"Come on," Ruth cajoles, breathless, amused, her lips brushing the lobe of his ear. She catches it between her teeth and Idris's entire body ruts upward despite himself at the sharp jab of pain. "Kiss me, kill me, _do_ —"

Idris swallows the last word with his mouth and unbuttons her trousers with a flick of his wrist, hand reaching in to cup the wet crotch of her underwear. Ruth's spine arches as he strokes her through the fabric, chest squashed into his, eyes hooded. He hooks a finger around the material and nudges it aside, slides an easy finger inside her—Jesus, she's already dripping, cum trickling down his knuckle as he presses upward, slicking into his palm. He fastens his thumb against the hard nub of her clit and her mouth goes slack.

He stops moving and just holds his hand there for a second, breathing out of his nose. Ruth makes an exasperated noise and rears her head back, tries to roll her hips down for more friction. He squeezes the arm around her waist to keep her in place. "Idris," she groans, narrowing her gaze. "Don't tease."

He rubs his thumb in a slow circle. She jerks a little, breath hitching. "Aren't you afraid someone will see us like this?"

The look she tosses him next is thoroughly unimpressed. "Are you?"

"Not particularly," he says, though it's more that he wants to keep systematically unraveling her than it is a lack of regard for unintentional voyeurs. His heart slams double-time in his chest.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

The back of her head cracks against the wall when he starts fucking her open in earnest, middle finger joining his index, thumb still pressing insistently against her clit. Idris kisses the pale column of her neck and feels arousal crawl up his own throat, erection straining against his jeans as her legs tighten reflexively around his waist.

She sighs. "Have you ever thought about—?"

"Hmm?"

"Growing your hair out?" Idris lifts his gaze and Ruth's grinning at him, bangs hanging limply in her face, almost maroon-colored now with sweat. She scrapes her nails down his scalp. "More to latch onto, see?"

Idris snorts, twists a third finger up to join the first two and crooks all three. She gasps, hands sliding down to cup his neck, fingernails trailing along his nape. "I'll consider it," he mumbles into the dip of her collarbone. He removes the arm around her waist and she sags against the wall, all her weight balanced on his hand.

He roots around in his pocket and resurfaces with a condom, the plastic wrapping catching a bit of strobe light from beyond the dark hallway. "Came prepared, did you?" Ruth murmurs. There it is again, that daring grin. He's struck with the sudden urge to bite her lips until they're red and ruined.

Idris rips the packet open with his teeth. "I'm always prepared."

"What a line," she says, and reaches down to ruck her trousers down and help him unzip his jeans.

She whimpers when he slides his hand out to roll the condom on. She grabs his wrist and sucks his wet fingers into her mouth, licks herself off him, tongue swirling intently, and—oh, hell, he's so hard his vision goes spotty for a moment. She smiles around his hand and raises her hips, eyes dancing.

He thrusts into her with one smooth motion, bottoms out with a groan that rumbles through his chest and rolls into hers. He grabs her thighs, slides her into a better angle, and her hands clamp around his biceps hard enough to burn. Every push prods her a little higher up the wall until she's using his shoulders as leverage and grinding down to meet him, tight wet heat enveloping his cock every time he rocks forward.

A rowdy group of bar hoppers jostles into the bathroom right behind them. Idris forces himself to still and Ruth whines, low and scratchy in her throat.

"Keep going," she rasps.

"Yeah," he says, "alright," and pistons in, deeper this time. He's sweating through his flimsy shirt by now, the material plastered to his chest. She palms one of his pecs appreciatively and Idris almost laughs. He ducks to drop a kiss at her temple instead. She chokes on a moan as his right hand trails over her inner thigh and rubs at her clit again—and then she's coming, the heels of her boots digging into his spine as she clenches around him, upper body going boneless.

Idris keeps her caged in with his arms and cants upward, more erratic now, the throbbing in his abdomen spreading wider and wider until his whole body's singing with it. He pushes into her one more time and Ruth clenches around him, teeth flashing with purpose. Idris buries his face into her neck and shoots his load, chest tense and heaving, torso rigid, crushing her into the wall with the full brunt of his weight.

Ruth's caressing his back when he comes down from it, hands splayed underneath his shirt, her face sweaty and flushed and luminous. He backs up a little and she drops a leg to the floor, tests herself before letting go completely. He ducks into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom and splash water in his face, tries in vain to pull the wrinkles out of his clothing.

When he returns, Ruth's swaying on her feet, hair unkempt, collar askew. She accepts the arm he offers her with another high laugh.

Idris's crumpled bomber jacket is still in the booth where he left it. He slides it over his shoulders and tries to steady his breathing. Paul eyes them knowingly and Ruth just grins, unrepentant. Idris motions for another whisky. Outside, it's just started to rain, a chilly autumn shower that pulls a hazy shroud over everything beyond the window. Ruth's thigh is warm and steady against his.


End file.
